Blood Requiem
by GlassPeregrine
Summary: When conspiracies abound and innocent blood is needlessly shed, who will be there to pick up the pieces of the shattered lives? Comment, Review, Constructively Criticize!
1. Chapter 1 Infection

Blood Requiem Series

Season 1– Blood Ties

Volume 1 - Mutation

Chapter 1 – Infection

Blood trickled slowly down his athletic arm. With his finger on the trigger of the nine millimeter handgun, he stood looking down toward the bleeding creature near his feet. Even if parts of the monster still resembled their original human hosts, the monster was no longer human, but a beast. It was seven feet tall, and had gigantic hands with finger-length claws and teeth seemingly designed to rip flesh. It was a dreadful creature from the bowels of a horrifying science fiction movie.

He squeezed the trigger, sending a final thundering blast of hot metal into the creature's skull, ensuring the end of its struggle. It shuddered pitifully then stopped moving completely, lying limp on the once tan living room carpet. Distant explosions rocked the small house in which the young man was standing, with a grave wound on his arm and a smoking gun in his hand. He was youthful, not even in his twenty's, yet there he stood defiantly, looming over the monster.

Earlier, around 6:30 in the morning it seemed to simply be an ordinary day. Grace had awakened beaming brightly into the crisp sunshine. She looked around the brilliantly lit room with peach-colored walls and soft white carpet. Or at least, it _was_ white, before her cousin Mirena Flores moved into the adjacent bed over a year ago. Mirena was from Grace's step-father's side of the family. Her parents had decided they were fed up with Mirena's wild-child tendencies of staying up late, playing her guitarra for all sorts of strange people and getting into fights with other girls back in Puerto Rico. And Grace just didn't understand how the girl could be so messy. There were several occasions in which Mirena would walk through the house eating pizza and chips and all manner of greasy, staining, fattening foods. And yet, Mirena still miraculously kept her trim figure.

In any case, Grace let those thoughts slip away as she made her way down the hallway to the bathroom, where Mirena's favorite band, Gafas del Sol, was already playing loudly from the cd player, the girl singing along to the mariachi-rock group. Grace would never say it, but she enjoyed listening to them as well. It was hard to ignore or resist the mellow essence of the flamenco guitars, the energy and spirit of the mariachi guitarras and the heavy, rebellious undertones of power guitars and drumlines. Before she knew it, she was combing her shoulder-length blond hair in the mirror and humming softly along to the music as well as she waited for Mirena to finish in the shower.

Grace sighed heavily as she studied her reflection, the comb still in her hand and the shower continuing to drone on, Mirena singing happily. "Today," said Grace, "I have to ask him today." She was thinking specifically about the upcoming prom. Today was the last day to buy tickets and she had been much too shy to ask him. It didn't help, of course, that he seemed to always ignore her.

Steven looked at his bare chest in the mirror. He splashed cool water from the sink onto his face, letting it trickle down to his neck before wiping it off with the face towel near the sink. He looked closely at the prominent scar running diagonally from his right shoulder down to the top of his abdomen. Sighing, he pulled the white t-shirt on. Tucking it into his usual tattered desert camouflage-colored cargo pants; he settled a brown leather jacket on and grabbed his keys and helmet.

Life in the group foster home was by no means a walk in the park, but it was still by far easier than the orphanage and safer than the military base. As far as he knew, many of the cities' orphans and foster children were a part of the afterschool military training. If knowledge of its existence wasn't completely confidential, he'd feel more inclined to ask questions of certain classmates. The sleek motorcycle roared to life under Steven's body, and as the wind enveloped his athletic frame, he allowed himself to consider another mystery entirely.

Nonetheless, Steven's mind continued to wander helplessly. There were a couple of girls that seemed to have taken an interest in him. One was a crazy Puerto Rican girl. She was very pretty, but too flirty for his taste. Of course, she was the cousin to the girl that actually interested him. She was blonde and kind of shy, and he could usually catch her staring at him during lunch, while the Puerto Rican tried to talk his ears off. He wasn't quite sure why the blonde girl would be interested in him, but maybe that was the best part. There wasn't a student in the school who didn't know he was an orphan. Or that he could fight. No one said much about it, though, because the last guy that made fun of him ended up in the hospital "accidentally". He supposed that he looked like one of those bad-boy stereotypes, but all-in-all, he was probably the quietest and friendliest student at school. He never really had a longing to prove it, however.

On the other hand, it seemed that girl had an absolutely opposite life. She was beautiful and popular. She had been nominated for class president and homecoming queen since ninth grade, but turned down the positions each time, showing a severe side of humility. Her parents were rich enough to take care of her and that crazy Puerto Rican cousin of hers; not to mention getting her a car for her sixteenth birthday. She seemed to be everything he wasn't, and also seemed to have everything he could ever hope for, a family notwithstanding.

He stopped the bike at a red light, looking at the now buttercup-yellow sunshine spreading across the city. Ahead of him lay the stretching highway to the school. To his right, the school bus pulled up, many of the students aboard. Behind him, an expertly restored and detailed older model silver BMW glided to a stop, inside it were the very two girls that were causing his mind to wander. The crazy Puerto Rican was waving flirtatiously at him from the front passenger seat of the car, as was her habit since she found out he drove along the bus route. Unfortunately, any other way was nearly impossible, with the city being so out of the way that it only had a few major streets, and none of the side-streets went anywhere near the school. He nodded reservedly back at her, then he turned his attention back to the road ahead. The light changed and he accelerated to the speed limit, the small motorcycle easily slipping ahead.

Blue Rock, Arkansas wasn't that different from most mid-sized cities, except for the Biological Research Hall and the Newton County Navy Base, both in the center of town, for easy access to those with valid authorization. Of course, there were very few with access to the base, and even fewer with access to the Research Hall. The Research Hall provided the local hospital with new versions of vaccines and pharmaceutical drugs on a regular basis, as well as researching biological weapons and developing countermeasures to them. For those very experiments, access to the Biological Research Hall had to be restricted to authorized personnel only. It was also the reason that Blue Rock, Arkansas was as remote a city as it was, and was forced to provide most of its own infrastructure, such as water, sewage and electricity.

Today was fairly far into the school year. It was nearing Halloween, in fact, and Blue Rock High was adorned rightly for the occasion; with spider webs, jack-o-lanterns, skeletons and all other manners of "scary" things. Steven sighed as he closed his locker. Halloween never really had much of a scare-factor for him. He actually found it quite cute that when people tried to scare him in their costumes, they left feeling deflated. This year, of course, marked the three year absence of anyone trying to scare him. Once they found out it couldn't be done, they just gave up. It honestly disappointed him a little. Fairly soon, though, he wouldn't have to feel left out. He'd be joining the military after graduation. After all, he might as well put all that afterschool nonsense to good use fighting in another senseless war.

Mirena covered his eyes from behind, "Hey," she said flirtingly in her thick Hispanic accent, "guess who!" He half-heartedly pretended to be surprised, and said with an unfortunately clearly fake gasp, "The blonde girl's cousin, right?" she took her hands off of his eyes and when he turned around to face her, she pushed him into the locker. He grinned a little. She looked at him furiously and said, "How many times do I have to tell you, _Steven_? My name is Mirena, and that 'blonde girl' is Grace. Got it, esé?"

Steven's grin grew wider, and he said, "You'll just have to keep telling me until I get it right, I guess. Or until you get tired of it; whichever comes first." This caused both Grace and Mirena to giggle, though Grace tried to hide her blushing cheeks immediately. Grace looked down at her feet and started biting her lip, her cheeks ablaze. Mirena looked satisfied and began to walk softly down the hall. Grace looked up nervously, and said, "Umm…" she looked at him longingly, "will you, umm…will you take me to the prom?" he smiled softly, "How about you let me think about it and I tell you in class?"

The shade of her face deepened sharply, and she said, almost too quickly and with a slight squeak, "O-Okay. S-See you then…Steven." She jogged slightly to catch up with Mirena, who turned around and blew him a kiss. He turned back to his locker smiling and pulled his History book and a notebook out, stuffing them into his backpack as the five minute warning bell echoed through the hallway.

Steven laughed to himself silently as he walked to his homeroom. The homeroom teacher, Wayde Harper, wasn't usually interested in much besides reading the novel of the month for his book club, so the students pretty much used the hour to do whatever preparations they still needed. Or, they simply talked among one another. It really just depended on the student.

Steven was relatively reclusive, however, and used his time in homeroom to work on editing the few pages he had written of his essay on Mendelian Genetics for Biology class. The topic had caught his eye, simply for the fact that the entire reason anybody knew about Blue Rock, Arkansas was because of the renowned geneticist Grady Orion Richards, whose revolutionary ideas were expected to change the world as everyone knew it.

Richards was known for his dabbling in human-based genetic experiments, supposedly attempting to create a super soldier serum like in the old comic books. According to recent reports, he'd gotten close to a viable serum, but the effects were still too unpredictable for use on actual human subjects. What exactly the components of Richards' research happened to be, it was highly classified. Steven's paper was barely five pages, and the majority of it was speculation.

Just before the bell rang, Steven packed his essay back into his standard-sized black backpack. Having only five minutes between bells, he had gotten good at slipping through the semi-crowded halls of the school. He swiftly turned the combination lock on his locker, opened it and extracted his sketch pad and other art supplies. Having art class first was awesome, because he didn't really have to think about it, so it gave him a chance to wake up before the tough stuff. He supposed he also liked it because he'd be able to talk to Grace without Mirena taking over the conversation.

In the art classroom, there were several long tables, spaced oddly throughout the room, and pushed back-to-back, the chairs set up so that the students had to sit in groups. Just as the bell rang, Steven had taken a seat, making sure it was right next to Grace. The art teacher Artemis Fletcher, a short and spindly balding man in his forties with hazel eyes behind rimless glasses, lazily handed out their instruction sheets for the day, while explaining them in an airy southern drawl. "I believe," he started, "that you all have gotten to the point where you should be able to draw a still-life with the correct techniques. You'll work in pairs today, and you'll draw a still-life portrait of the partner you've chosen. Make sure you only take one hour each, so that everyone gets a chance to work unencumbered with the difficulty of trying to draw a body in motion."

Steven turned to Grace, who was already beginning to blush with excitement, and said, "Will you be my partner?" Instead of words which were clearly failing her for a moment, she nodded her head a little vigorously. "I…wasn't expecting you to choose me to work with you today," she said finally. "Well," he said, pulling a mechanical pencil from his pocket, "you did ask me a question earlier, and I promised you an answer." She turned beet red, and started to play with her hair a little. "Th-That is true, I suppose," she replied, "s-so. What do you say? Will you take me?"

Steven had already begun drawing on his sketch pad, angled so that she couldn't see it, of course. He looked into her eyes with a serious expression, wiping away some of her embarassment but adding to her nervousness. He drew a slow breath, then asked, "Before I answer, there's something I want to know." She tilted her head in confusion a little. He continued, "I want you to tell me. What about me is attractive to you? And, more importantly, what's up with your cousin flirting with me all the time?"

Grace giggled softly, trying not to be noticed in the steadily growing din of conversation in the art class. "To be honest," she said slowly, turning impossibly redder, "I'm not entirely sure what all I like about you. There's just something about you that's not like all the other boys I know." She didn't say it, but she was thinking that it helped that he was cute, too. Steven nodded his head slowly and waited for her to answer the second question. "And, about Mirena," she continued, "she calls herself a love guru. I guess her flirting with you is her way of trying to set us up together."

"That's very kind of her, I suppose." Said Steven, pausing a moment to stare at her nose, making her squirm in her seat a little. "More importantly," said Grace, in a voice with a slight amount more confidence, "did it work?" It was Steven's turn to snicker softly, his deep voice tickling the air. "I suppose," he said, "but I noticed you were attracted to me long before then. I just wasn't sure how to approach you, to be completely truthful."

Her expression softened, and they continued the class talking about their home lives, Steven telling her about growing up in the group foster home, and Grace telling him about her parents and living with Mirena. "Wow," said Steven, "sounds like she can be a bit of a pain at times, huh?" Grace laughed, maybe a little too hard because she slipped off her chair a little, but caught herself. "Yeah, you have no idea," she said, "she's a pretty good musician, though. I suppose I should give her credit for that."

There was a soft chink of ceramic on the floor tile. Steven and Grace, along with much of the rest of the class, looked up to see Mr. Fletcher clutching his chest as though he couldn't breathe, his coffee cup shattered on the floor. A few students, including Grace, began to panic horribly as his flesh turned from fair and smooth to leathery and grey. The whites of his hazel eyes turned a horrible shade of red, and blood poured from his mouth a little. He fell to the floor as a couple of students who were on the football team rushed over to him.

Some other students were going over to try and help as well, others running to get the school nurse. Even still most looked on in horror as their art teacher spasmed and coughed blood in the arms of the two burly football players. Steven grabbed Grace's hand as she started toward Mr. Fletcher. She looked at Steven with disbelief, "Let me go." He shook his head, "Wait a second," he said, cutting her off as she attempted to respond with, "I can't put my finger on it, but something's not right about this." She looked into his eyes with confusion and fury.

She turned her head at the sound of cracking bones, only to see one of the football players smashed against a wall, some blood spattering the blackboard and floor. Mr. Fletcher had turned into a hideous five-foot-tall creature with massive hands and a tiny, misshapen head. With his other hand, he held the other football player at least two feet off the ground by the neck. He looked around the room as he began squeezing the neck, his finger-length claws penetrating the football player's flesh easily, causing a light gush of blood.

Without blinking an eye, Steven ushered Grace out of the classroom, avoiding the many other scared and panicked students. Just as they were leaving the classroom, he noticed the monster that had been Mr. Artemis Fletcher was drinking the blood of the two students he'd killed, and it appeared to be making him grow even larger. Steven urged Grace to run with him. Once they'd turned a few corridors he turned and asked, "What class is Mirena in right now?" Grace replied to him, shakily, "M-m-m-math, I think."

Taking that as an appropriate answer, he turned them right and they entered the crowded stairwell, just as they heard a wall back the way they'd come crumble and shrieks of panic and pain. They got to the bottom floor, and saw the body of the front office receptionist slumped against the wall, with a clearly defined bullet wound in her chest. They ran at a terrifying speed, Steven from training and Grace from adrenaline.

Another monster, this one seeming to have been the Math teacher and wife to the art teacher, Olivia Fletcher, stood over several bodies of students in the middle of the classroom. Her mouth was salivating with blood and several of the desks had been smashed or moved. Mirena was cowering next to the teacher's desk. The monster that had been Mrs. Fletcher turned to look at Mirena, a soft smile curling her lip and a low growl shaking her leathery skin.

Mirena screamed as the monster rushed toward her. Steven, without thinking about it, ran forward some and shoved his left shoulder violently into the monster's side, knocking it over onto a few of the remains of desks. He felt a sharp pain in his arm, as though he'd dislocated the shoulder joint, and cringed. He turned, grabbed Mirena by the hand and helped her up. The monster roared angrily as it attempted to rise to its feet, the metal leg of a broken desk pinning it momentarily to the floor.

Steven, Grace and Mirena made it outside quickly, but it was utter pandemonium with students attempting to flee from the school, many of them hiding inside parked buses or getting into the cars of those students fortunate enough to have them. There was no sign of any of the monsters here, but instead the bodies of the school security guards, both apparently gunned down.

Steven's smartphone chirped, and he pulled it from its place in its belt holster. It was the base. He answered as he and the girls continued to walk. "Operative Steven Joseph Fuller," the voice on the other end of the phone said, "this is Corporal Jake Lawson. Intelligence registered a bio-organic weapon disturbance just now. We need you to arm yourself and eliminate the threats in your area. You have one hour to quell the threat and radio back before we send a strike team. Details will be discussed in debrief as soon as we can stabilize the situation. Good luck, Operative." There was an audible click as Corporal Lawson hung up his end.

Steven went to his motorcycle, where he kept a nine millimeter handgun and three fifteen-round magazines in the saddlebag. He collected the handgun and its accessories, unaware of Grace and Mirena's looks of utter horror and confusion behind him. "What the hell, esé?" yelled Mirena, "You never told us you were packing like that!" He turned around, inserting a magazine into the slot on the gun and cocking the slide. "I'll explain later, if I can. Just try and get out of here safely."

"Don't worry," he said to Grace's look of utter confusion, "I'll be fine." The engine roared to life and seconds later the girls were going farther down the street. He turned around to face the school, the Mrs. Fletcher monster bursting through the brick wall easily, roaring in absolute,uncontained and unfathomable rage.

Steven raced toward the monster, bounding over the parked security car and dodging just as a large chunk of the brick wall slammed into the car with enough force to send it across the parking lot about thirty feet. Steven dropped and slid to avoid another, smaller chunk of brick wall, taking careful aim and firing twice. The bullets penetrated the monster's chest, causing it to ooze a relatively large amount of blood, permeating the air with the scent of half-rotted flesh. The monster roared deafeningly. It grabbed the iron railing on the small flight of stairs and ripped a piece off as though it were a paper towel. It swung hard with its new serrated iron pipe, narrowly missing as Steven dived to the right. He rolled and got back on his feet, ran a small distance, and turned around just as the monster was upon him, having moved faster than he'd expected.

Steven squeezed the trigger twice, the first shot going wide and glancing off the top of the head and the other one penetrating the monster's right eye, causing it to grab at its face. No blood came from the eye, but he'd clearly hurt the creature very badly. It swayed, roaring pitifully. When it pulled its hands down, Steven had a clear shot and took it, connecting directly between the monster's eyes. It crumpled to the ground, twitched for a few seconds and then stopped moving completely.

Looking back toward the parking lot, he noticed that his motorcycle had been crushed by the security car. He looked at the monster again, hung his head and sighed. "Out of all the vehicles in this town," he said, "I still have payments on that blasted thing…not that it matters now, I guess." He looked up, "Maybe Corporal Lawson will replace it for me," he said hopefully, secretly wishing it to be true as if attempting to will it into existence.

"Pay attention, blast it all!" he said to himself, finally. He looked back toward the building. The majority of the noise had died down, as the students who had not been injured or killed had finally left, congesting traffic nearly a half mile away. Sneaking a glance behind him, he noticed Grace's car hadn't moved. She and Mirena were apparently hiding, because they'd closed the drop top and were unseen through the windows.

Steven noticed, as he re-entered to look around the school building, that there were several monsters at odd intervals through the halls. From strips of clothing, he guessed that they were all teachers. The question was, though, what killed them? For that matter, of course, why'd they change in the first place? An ominous growling sound filled the bloodstained hallways, flourescent lights flickering from several areas of exposed wiring. He heard the distinct sound of something slurping. He placed his back completely at the corner of the hall, looking around to make certain whether or not the source of the sounds was truly there.

He looked around carefully, quickly spotting a monster on all-fours, grappling with the flesh of another. The remnant of bloodstained khaki fabric sticking to the snacking monster's leg revealed it to be the one that had been Gladys Jonston, the originally slim-built gym teacher. It looked up a little, and sniffed the air. With an air of vigor, the monster roared happily and snaked a long tongue across its face in anticipation, finally turning and looking an awestruck Steven Fuller directly in the eyes.


	2. Chapter 2  Outbreak

Requiem Series

Season 1– Blood Ties

Volume 1 - Mutation

Chapter 2 – Outbreak

"Okay!" he yelled as he ran through the hallway of Blue Rock High School toward the front door, "This…is…officially…my…worst…day…EVER!" He was trying to put as much concrete and distance between himself and the former gym teacher, Ms. Gladys Jonston as possible. Sensing an attack he dropped to the floor, cursing under his breath from the pain in his shoulder. The seven-foot-tall monster soared easily over him, slamming into the reinforced wooden door on her feet and hands like some kind of wild cat with an unhappy crunch. She attempted to bound off but the door failed and gave way, sending her sprawling on the concrete staircase outside.

Steven took the opportunity to aim, his vision blurred slightly from the searing pain coming from his left shoulder and the shot went wide, missing the monster entirely. "Well, isn't this just dandy," he said to himself as the monster regained its footing and quadriped-like positioning. It roared in anger, rushing back toward the doors. "This isn't going to work," said Steven as he sprinted through the corridor, looking every direction he could think of for options. Passing a fire extinguisher, he fired into it once.

The monster was confused by the sudden spray of cold as it had almost caught up with its prey. Immediately, a thought came to Steven's mind. "Let's see how you like mystery meat." He took a sharp right turn, bolting into the deserted-looking cafeteria. Behind the empty kitchen, the door to the industrial sized freezer was still open, everyone apparently having left at the sound of trouble. "Let's see if this works," he said to himself as he spun around one hundred and eighty degrees. The monster was charging forward in a deep rage.

It lunged and Steven jumped to his right at the last second, one of the monster's finger-length claws glancing by, ripping his white shirt and spraying blood from his left shoulder. It slid on the ice until the end, and by the time it got its footing back, Steven had slammed the door to the freezer and locked it. "That's right," he said, chest heaving as he tried hard to catch his breath, "chill out. Please." He leaned against the wall for a moment, his breath coming in ragged successions as his lungs fought to put oxygen back into his body. "They…never…said anything…about…teachers turning—"

A heavy slam on the freezer door brought him back to reality. He looked at it with a look of disbelief. He started looking around and found the drum for used cooking oil. He pushed hard, allowing it to fall and crack open on the cafeteria's kitchen floor next to the freezer, slams and bangs coming more fiercely and rapidly now, the heavy iron door bending and buckling with every hit. Steven grabbed a matchbox, lit a match and put it the opposite way from the others back in the box. He threw the matchbox into the oil that was slowly creeping under the freezer door.

He ran, just as the freezer door smashed out of the cafeteria kitchen and into several tables in the middle of the cafeteria, coming to rest at one of the building's major support pillars. The sound of flames springing to life caught his ear, along with a painful screech from the monster. He didn't stop running, not until after he heard the explosion whose sound rippled throughout the slightly empty high school.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled in exasperation as the monster burst through a wall, smelling like charred flesh and old fish, letting out horrifyingly enraged screams. He broke into another sprint, racking his brain. "The freezer thing worked in that dinosaur movie, the kitchen fire thing worked in both the shark movie AND the zombie movie. What the heck am I supposed to do to kill this thing? I was NOT trained for this!" The monster, on the other hand, appeared to be gaining better control of its movements, bounding from wall to wall, catching up to Steven quickly.

Throwing caution to the wind, Steven bolted through the broken front doors of the school and grabbed hold of the door jam at the very last second. Holding on, his momentum allowed him to be carried bodily outside and onto the still whole wooden door, causing the monster to pass by him harmlessly. He then spun, standing just at the top of a set of short stairs leading to the northern sidewalk. It landed with a thud on the ground near the splintered wooden door it had crashed through earlier. Steven ran toward it this time, sliding like a baseball player under a swipe from one of its massive claws. He shoved the gun to the underside of the monster's head and fired three times.

The monster squealed pitifully and fell limply on top of Steven. He shoved at it hard, pushing just enough to wriggle himself from under it's crushing weight. The pain in his shoulder started becoming excruciating, and he'd lost a surprising amount of blood. Noticing this, he took a moment to wrap the wound in a strip of cloth ripped from his shirt. He pulled the smartphone from its holster on his hip, and looked at it. The screen was halfway shattered, but it looked like it'd still work. He dialed the code to connect with Special Operations Headquarters. "Commander Lawson here, what is your status?" Said Commander Lawson expectantly.

"Let's put it this way, Commander," Steven started, "I had no idea what kind of situation I was walking into and I've been injured. This kind of mission doesn't need to be a common occurance. I don't remember being trained to fight monsters. Oh, and before I forget, you guys owe me a phone and motorcycle. The targets destroyed mine." Lawson sighed audibly, "Not exactly the answer I was looking for, Operative. Don't you dare forget how the chain of command works. I honestly don't care what kind of problems you've run into. You're a soldier. Serious injuries are an occupational hazard." He paused a moment, then said, "I guess I'll re-phrase the question. What is the status of your mission. Are all threats dealt with?"

"Well," said Steven, feeling slightly lightheaded, "the ground floor is cleared. I'm requesting that you send in that strike team for the second floor. I've fought two of the B.O.W.'s, and have been badly injured. It doesn't appear that cuts made with their claws stop bleeding on their-" he collapsed, the phone slipping from his hand and hitting the ground with a plastic crack. Lawson's voice picked up through the phone, "Operative Fuller? …Roger that report, Operative Fuller. The backup team has been dispatched. They should be arriving by helicopter in a few minutes." The blood was still flowing freely from his shoulder, though the soaked-through piece of shirt tied tightly to the wound held the majority of it in. His vision faded rapidly and all became dark.

Several blocks away, Grace was weaving skillfully between other cars on the slightly less congested three-lane highway. She braked perfectly coming up on the stop light that signaled the edge of the moderate-sized downtown area. As a precautionary rule, of course, she made sure to wait several seconds after the light changed before pressing the accelerator lightly, bringing her speed up smoothly. "What the heck is wrong with you, Grace?" yelled Mirena, exasperated, "Do you really have to be Miz Perfect at the end of the world?" Grace shuddered a little, and said, "I don't know. I'm freaked out too, but I can't break the law. And besides, if everybody's driving hysterically, there's no telling where a car might come at us." Mirena simply looked into her face with further awe as the car steadily accelerated to just under the speed limit.

After a few more minutes of silent driving, Grace sighed apparently trying to calm her nerves. "Mirena," she started slowly, "Tell me; do you…do you think Steven's alright?" Mirena shifted in her seat uncomfortably, then said, "I don't know about you, but I'm not sure I trust Rambo anymore. I mean, why the heck would he even have a gun at school in the first place? He must be like a cholo or gangster or something, you know?"

"I'm sure," said Grace contemplatingly, "he must have a good reason. He said he'd explain, right? We should at least give him a chance. We owe him that much, at the very least." Mirena thought for a while, staring as they passed her favorite coffee shop, The Lucky Clover, on the corner, most of its patrons staring blankly at the television in the back. "I suppose," she finally said, heaving a sigh, "I guess you're right. He did risk his life to get us out of the building." Mirena smiled slightly, then added, "Come to think of it, he especially made sure to look for me. If anything good comes out of this, it's that you're getting your knight in shining armor to notice you."

Grace's face flushed a burning shade of red and she dropped her gaze for a moment. Her mind was racing to furnish a response. It was too true that at times she'd hoped and prayed that Stephen would rescue her from some calamity, embracing her in his well-toned arms and driving away her nightmares as only he could. She had never actually wanted a calamity to befall their mid-sized town, but she definitely wanted to know what it felt like to be in his arms.

"GRACE!" yelled Mirena, snapping Grace Peterson back into reality. The screech of a car struggling to stop as immediately as possible filled the air. Another driver had barrelled into a left turn at the red signal, missing Grace's sportscar only by inches, and only because she'd slammed her brakes just in time. The other driver honked and waved an extremely rude hand gesture in the air as he sped off in the direction Grace and Mirena had just come. Grace's car had stopped just short of the intersection. She pulled up the remaining two feet as the light turned to red.

Mirena and Grace sat at the light for a moment longer, other cars coming up behind them. "Okay...,"said Mirena, "I'm sorry I said anything about your driving earlier. Just get us home safe." Grace looked on the verge of tears. Rather than attempting to think of a response, however, she focused entirely on watching the road. She barely even noticed the sounds of the emergency vehicle sirens as several SWAT vans and two ambulances rushed through the intersection towards the Newton County Base.

In a flash of intense pain and red light, Steven yelled loudly. As his vision began to clear, he noticed the pain was receding slowly, though he was still very stiff. "Sit-rep, Sergeant! Is he with us?" asked a strong male voice he halfway recognized. A soft female voice with a thick russian accent replaced it, "Almozt. I need more hemoztatic, Lieutenant! I've almost got him stabilized."

Another stab of pain and brightness brought him to the realization that he was still laying on the front lawn of the school, just a few feet from the animalistic monster that was once the gym teacher. He looked up into the scarred but pretty face of the woman he assumed was the Sergeant. Her ruffled, neck length wavy black hair seemed to exaggerate her startlingly grey eyes. The insignia on her all-black combat outfit placed her in the Special Operations Unit, Medical Branch. Her dog tags read Elena V. Petrovic, 5th Medical Team.

Standing to her left at his full height of six-feet five-inches was a bull of a man Steven recognized as Lieutenant Sean Brodus who was second-in-command of the 3rd combat strike force. He held a standard-issue light machine gun, which in his massive hands looked a little dwarfed. He nodded to Steven and said, "Good job, soldier. You still have a job to do, though. The other two should be along any minute now."

Nearly as soon as that was said, two men in full combat gear came around the western end of the building. The man in the lead strode cooly with his assault rifle in hand. The other man looked a little apprehensive, and it was clear that he'd never seen such brutality before.

The lead man walked up and asked, "How's Operative Fuller, Elena?" Petrovic turned to him, "He'll be fine, Major. He did lose a lot of blood, so he'll be slightly weary and possibly dizzy for a little while, but aside from that he's combat ready again." He nodded, then reached out a hand to Steven, helping him up. "I," the lead man said, making sure Steven was back up, "am Major Jon Chamberlain, and this," he dropped Steven's hand and pointed to the apprehensive looking man, "is Pfc. Gilliam Thomas. Welcome to the second emergency combat squadron of the Special Operations Unit."

Steven shook his head slightly, "You weren't kidding about the dizziness, were you?" Petrovic looked at him incredulously, her grey eyes flashing disapprovingly, "No," she said, "I prefer serious diagnoses. I am professional." Looking confused, Steven took a kind of double take on the entire situation. "Sorry," he finally said, "I didn't mean to offend you. I just felt like laughing after nearly losing my life." Petrovic smiled a little, then motioned him to come a little closer to her. "Let me tell you a secret, Operative." She paused for a little while, possibly for dramatic effect, before saying, "You talk to effink much."

Major Chamberlain held the radio button on his combat vest, "Commander Lawson, this is Chamberlain. We have Operative Fuller. Sergeant Petrovic says he'll make a full recovery. Over." He released the button and listened to his radio for a few seconds, then pressed it again and said, "Understood. Chamberlain out."

Major Chamberlain got a serious look on his face, "Alright kids, our ride out has been compromised and we've got life signs still showing up inside the building. Probably a bunker, because the Captain and I did a full sweep. Also, we've reports of more monsters attacking in the city itself. Because of the time constraints, we're splitting up for a little while." Lieutenant Brodus put a cigarette in his mouth and said, "And the good news?" Chamberlain smirked, "Who said anything about good news? Gilly, you're still with me. We're going to find out who or what is still inside the school and have a little chat. We'll join the rest of you as soon as we're done here."

"Elena, Sean, Steven." He continued, "Your first objective is to secure and protect any remaining survivors. Your second objective is to back-up emergency teams one and three. Hopefully, we'll have reinforcements from the National Guard by nightfall." His expression got serious again and he listened to his headset radio again, "Darnit! You have to go now. Teams one and three are encountering heavy resistance. They've already had casualties. Move out!"

Major Chamberlain and Captain Gilliam walked back up the short stone steps and into the broken north door of the school. "How in the heck are we supposed to get there fast?" said Brodus. Petrovic looked at him incredulously, "Heads up, Lieutenant!" she said, pointing toward the western parking lot where a student had bled out trying to get to his SUV. "I recommend," she continued, "that we requisition that vehicle."

Grace and Mirena pull into the driveway of the two-story ranch-style house. "I think," said Grace, turning the car off, "that was the scariest drive home we've ever had." Mirena simply nodded her head. They reach to take off their seatbelts and finally realize they'd forgotten to put them on. Mirena chuckles softly at the look of utter embarassment visible on Grace's face. Exiting the car, they see Grace's father Robert, hurrying out the front door with a Remington shotgun in his thin, tanned grip.

"Thank heavens," said Robert, "we were so worried about you two." He loosened his grip on the gun so that he could extend an arm around each of the girls in a hug. He continued, "We heard on the news about the school. Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it, though." The looks of terror on the girl's faces were not betrayed by Grace's voice, as she swallowed and said, "W-w-well, what's h-h-h-happened?" Robert sighed deeply, then said, "It's on the news that a lot of places around town are being attacked by the same kinds of monsters that attacked your school."

Mirena gasped loudly, "That can't be true. This can't be happening. It just can't." There were true tears streaming down her face. "Well," said Robert with a slight choke in his voice, "at any rate, we need to get inside and stay there till this all boils over." A small, seemingly faraway explosion caught their ears as they walked hurriedly into the oak front door.

Robert ushered Grace and Mirena into the windowless den where Grace's mother Rachel already sat tensely on the couch. The television flickered in the room with images of all-out war. The camera looked back at the young reporter cowering behind a car. "These brave soldiers," she said with more than a hint of fear in her voice, "are fighting for all of us tonight. Police and SWAT teams have also engaged the strange creatures, and encourage everyone to remain inside a sturdy structure away from windows and doors until this crisis has been contained."

A low, yet audible growl began to rumble impatiently. A sickening crunch and a spray of blood filled the television, and the reporter screamed horribly as the camera fell to the ground in a fresh pool of blood. A second, unseen monster pounced the screaming reporter just as the station cut the video feed.

"We'll continue," choked the man sitting behind the desk at the news station, "to give you updates as we receive them from the police and a group of soldiers from the Newton County Base calling themselves the Special Operations Unit. Once again, we ask that you remain in your homes, preferably in a basement or other room with _very limited_ access."

A high, monstrous scream bellowed, and the sound of battle rose considerably. The Peterson's house felt like it might be shaking a little with each explosion. Robert Peterson stood near the door clutching his sturdy shotgun in his hands, his knuckles turning white from the strain. Rachel, Grace and Mirena all sat on the couch, subdued and listening, for anything to signal that the nightmare was over.

Petrovic brought the SUV to a skidding halt at the Main Street intersection. The Lucky Clover Bar & Grill was alight with flames, several bodies lying just outside the door. Two of the monsters approached from opposite sides of the intersection. Nearly all at once, as they noticed one another they lunged, one at the other. "That explains that," said Steven to no one in particular, although it could be gathered that the reason there were so many dead monsters at the school, aside from the two he killed, that they must fight among themselves.

It was an extremely ferocious battle, the stronger of the two simply attacked with its finger-length claws until the other lay motionless and blooded on the asphalt. "Kill it now, before it drinks the blood!" said Steven, as the surviving monster reached down to pick up the misshapen body of the other monster. Brodus kicked his door from its hinges easily and squeezed the trigger of the light machine gun, the flurry of bullets ripping completely through both monsters, leaving them as a bloody heap on the pavement.

An unseen monster dropped down onto the hood of the SUV, snarling. It slashed the hood with its claws, hitting the engine and causing it to stop. Nearly as soon as it did that, two more monsters came out of nowhere and began to rip at the doors and windows of the vehicle, their claws easily slicing through the metal and shattering glass. Petrovic pulled her nine millimeter handgun from its holster and as though it was second nature, squeezed the trigger twice. The monster to the left fell over, large chunks taken out of it. The monster to the right and the one on the hood fell to the rapid fire of Sean Brodus' machine gun.

"How'd your handgun," said Steven, having positioned himself in the absolute middle of the back seats, "blow holes that large in that thing. It took headshots for me to kill them." Petrovic reached into her bag smiling and produced two fifteen-round magazines. "You like it, ya?" she said with a wink, "They're high-explosive rounds of my own design. They just work so much better than standard ammunition…they're expensive as heck, though, so don't shoot them all at one place, eh?" Steven took the magazines from her gratefully and slipped them into one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Playtime's over," said Brodus, "we're walking from here, I suppose." Petrovic didn't argue, but it was clear that she didn't appreciate being ordered to do the obvious. Upon exiting the SUV, Brodus consulted the global positioning system installed into a small electronic tablet strapped to his wrist like a watch. Steven felt a small vibration and lifted his mostly shattered smartphone from its hip holster. It was a text message from Grace. He pressed the button to open the text and read quickly:

"Hope ur ok. Made it home safely. We r 2205 Syracuse Ln, two miles north of Lucky Clover Grill."

Steven looked up to see Petrovic and Brodus staring at him. "I've just received word of survivors about two miles North of this position." He said. Brodus thought a moment, then said, "Alright, Operative. We'll move to assist teams one and three. We'll leave securing those survivors to you." Petrovic looked at him with as stoic a look as ever. She reached into her medical bag again and produced three silver cylinders, each with a button on one end and a small hole on the other. Handing the cylinders to Steven, she said, "These are a mixture of hemostatic and adrenaline boosting medicines. If you happen to get injured again, inject one of these near the site of the wound, as immediately as you can."

Steven nodded, pocketing the silver cylinders. "Thanks for the assist," he said, saluting. He turned to his right and began walking briskly Northward, nine millimeter handgun in hand. "See you on the other side, Operative." said Brodus seriously. Steven turned his head around long enough to say, "See you on the other side, sir. Good luck."


End file.
